So saying he searched his pockets again, and this time counted out three crown pieces. "A crown," he said, "for each year; it is liberal; few masters would pay such wages." The boy, who knew very little about money, was quite satisfied; he received his scanty pay, and determined now that his pockets were full, he would play. He set off therefore to see the world; up-hill and down-hill, he ran and sang to his heart's content; but presently, as he leaped a bush, a little man suddenly appeared before him. "Whither away, Brother Merry?" asked the stranger, "your cares seem but a light burden to you!" "Why should I be sad?" answered the boy, "when I have three years' wages in my pocket." "And how much is that?" inquired the little man. "Three good crowns." "Listen to me," said the dwarf; "I am a poor, needy creature, unable to work; give me the money; you are young, and can earn your bread." The boy's heart was good; it felt pity for the miserable little man; so he handed him his hard-gotten wages. "Take them," said he, "I can work for more." "You have a kind heart," said the mannikin, "I will reward you by granting you three wishes--one for each crown. What will you ask?" "Ha! ha!" laughed the boy; "you are one of those then who can whistle blue! Well, I will wish; first, for a bird-gun, which shall hit whatever I aim at; secondly, for a fiddle, to the sound of which every one who hears me play on it must dance; and, thirdly, that when I ask any one for any thing, he shall not dare to refuse me." "You shall have all," cried the little man, as he took out of the bush, where they seemed to have been placed in readiness, a fine fiddle, and bird-gun--"no man in the world shall refuse what you ask!" "My heart, what more can you desire!" said the boy to himself, as he joyfully went on his way. He soon overtook a wicked-looking man, who stood listening to the song of a bird, which was perched on the very summit of a high tree. "Wonderful!" cried the man, "such a small animal with such a great voice! I wish I could get near enough to put some salt on its tail." The boy aimed at the bird with his magic gun, and it fell into a thorn-bush. "There, rogue," said he to the other, "you may have it if you fetch it." "Master," replied the man, "leave out the 'rogue' when you call the dog; but I will pick up the bird." In his effort to get it out, he had worked himself into the middle of the prickly bush, when the boy was seized with a longing to try his fiddle. But, scarcely had he begun to scrape, when the man began also to dance, and the faster the music, the faster and higher he jumped, though the thorns tore his dirty coat, combed out his dusty hair, and pricked and scratched his whole body. "Leave off, leave off," cried he, "I do not wish to dance!" But he cried in vain. "You have flayed many a man, I dare say," answered the boy, "now we will see what the thorn-bush can do for you!"